


Black Jellybeans

by LerxstInSpace



Series: Contingency Plan-verse [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Established Relationship, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Shiro (Voltron), Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Curtis/Adam (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 13:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerxstInSpace/pseuds/LerxstInSpace
Summary: Shiro spots the orange candle and the little bundle of sage and sweetgrass in front of it and thinks he’s figured out what he’s looking at, but the picture of Adam cements it. There are no sugar skulls. There’s no explicitly religious imagery among the candles and flowers and pictures. But there’s no question about it.Adam wasn’t particularly religious, and neither is Curtis. But much like Adam did, Curtis still finds comfort in some of the traditions he grew up with, familiar bits of ritual passed down from his parents and grandparents and so on. And after the last few years, after everything that’s happened, after everyone he’s lost... of course Curtis needs some of that comfort.





	Black Jellybeans

Halloween sneaks up on them this year.

 

Shiro has always loved it, and so has Curtis, but they’ve both been through hell and they’re still adjusting to Earth time again and they barely realize what month it is.

 

They spend their first two days back on Earth on Shiro’s couch, both of them too exhausted to do much more than find another nature documentary to watch or order some food or just curl up and sleep right where they are. The next two weeks go by in a blur of briefings and administrative crap and lunch at the chow hall when they can manage it together and evenings on the couch and then _oh shit,_ Halloween is this Friday and the MFE pilots are throwing a party and Shiro and Curtis have no idea what the hell they’re going to do about it.

 

They want to go. They both do. They want to spend some time with their friends, and there hasn’t been any time to just get together for fun since they’ve been back.

 

After some deliberation, they decide they want matching costumes. At first, they’re not sure they want to make it that obvious they’re a couple yet. But the only people at the party will be the MFE pilots, the bridge crew, the Paladins, and any friends they want to bring along and the few people in that bunch who don’t already know Shiro and Curtis are dating won’t give them any weird looks or ask any awkward questions.

 

They go out after work the next day to look for something to wear. The stores are still kind of bare and the few prefab costumes in stock are mostly kid-sized. If there had been a little more time, and maybe a little better selection at the art supply store, and if they’d maybe had a little more energy, they might have been able to cobble something really spectacular together.

 

But not this year. This year, Shiro and Curtis show up to the MFE pilots’ party as a pair of ghosts, wearing the most presentable sheets they could find at the thrift store with eye holes cut out of them. Curtis’ sheet is lavender. Shiro’s has a garish floral print.

 

They’re a little self-conscious about their lazy costumes until they see what everyone else is wearing. Nobody else seems to have been able to muster up the motivation and/or supplies to make more than a half-assed stab at a costume either. Pretty much everyone is wearing some variation on a theme of “T-shirt with something taped/pinned/drawn on it” and it’s great.

 

Keith is wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and has a second black T-shirt tied into a ninja hood on his head and a lopsided aluminum foil-over-cardboard shuriken tucked into his belt. James managed to find a Superman T-shirt somewhere and added a cape made out of a towel. Lance is wearing paper cat ears taped to a headband, with whiskers drawn on his cheeks in eyeliner Shiro guesses he borrowed from Veronica. Pidge seems to have put more effort into her asteroid field costume than all the rest of the guests combined and all she did was stick glow-in-the-dark stars, wads of gray construction paper, and the kind of tiny plastic spaceship that comes out of a gum machine on a black sweatshirt and ball cap.

 

“Hey,” Curtis says, giving Shiro a little nudge. “At least we’re kind of color-coordinated?”

 

There’s music, and there are snacks, and there are some party games, and there are non-alcoholic beverages in the coolers although the invite did say those who were of age were free to bring their own bottles. Nobody did.

 

It occurs to Shiro that there are about twenty people at this party and everyone here is a war veteran. And counting himself, maybe seven of them can buy their own alcohol.

 

He pushes the thought out of his head--this isn’t the time to fall down that hole again--and watches Hunk and Ryan swap recipes. Hunk is wearing a white T-shirt with a yolk painted right in the middle of his chest. Ryan is wearing a bathrobe and pointy paper hat with yellow paper stars stuck all over them.

 

As tired as he is right now, Shiro is glad he came, and even more glad the MFE pilots thought to do this for everyone. They’re kids, and God knows they’ve earned the right to just be kids again for one night.

 

Sure enough, even the people here who didn’t know Shiro and Curtis were dating don’t seem all that surprised to see them together. They sit down with their drinks and paper plates of finger food and pull off their sheets to graze and talk, and nobody seems weirded out about them sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. Nobody cares when Curtis hooks his pinky into Shiro’s, or when Shiro ups the ante and takes his whole hand. Nobody says a word when Shiro leans his head on Curtis’ shoulder for a minute. Well, no, that’s not entirely true--a couple of people do say something, but it’s all positive and they don’t make a big deal out of it.

 

Keith just claps Shiro on the shoulder and grins.

 

He's thinking about going to Daibazaal for a while, he tells Shiro while Curtis is off talking to Veronica and Acxa. He’s not sure he wants to stay there, but there’s a lot of work to do and not a lot of Galra willing to take the lead on it themselves. A lot of them want _him_ to do it, or at least point them in the right direction. Some of them are starting to make noise about appointing him to a position he really doesn’t want--he doesn’t say the word “Emperor"but Shiro gets the impression that’s what they’re asking of him. Shiro doesn’t blame him for not wanting that kind of responsibility thrust onto him. Not a bit. Especially after everything he’s been through. Especially this soon after he’s been through it.

 

Shiro and Curtis end up winning a little plastic pumpkin full of candy as a prize for the best couples’ costume. They had the  _only_ couples’ costume. Sam and Colleen have been too tired and too busy to put anything together. Acxa wasn’t sure what to make of a holiday where people dressed up in costumes and harmlessly scared the hell out of themselves and each other for fun. So she came in street clothes, and Veronica didn’t want her to feel out of place so she did too.

 

The party is weirdly quiet, considering the average age of the hosts and guests. Maybe not so weird, though. Everybody’s still in decompression mode. Everybody’s still trying to adjust to the war really being over this time, and to come to terms with what it cost them.

 

Everybody’s still tired and probably will be for weeks and months to come. There are days when Shiro can barely drag himself out of bed in time to shower, shave, and eat breakfast before he goes in to work. Curtis is still getting up at five in the morning to go to the gym, at least most of the time. There’s something to be said for keeping a consistent morning routine but sometimes it comes back to bite him and leaves him asleep on the couch (and, a couple of times, on Shiro’s chest) before the sun is all the way down.

 

So it really isn’t that surprising when people start leaving before ten.

 

As the party starts to wind down, Shiro sees Curtis on the other side of the room with his sheet off so he can talk to Lance. Given everything that’s happened, he’s surprised Lance came at all, much less in a costume. But on second thought, it makes sense. He’s always preferred to be around other people, and Shiro figures after everything that’s happened he appreciates the chance to hang around with his friends just for fun for once.

 

Shiro remembers how he felt when he found out Adam was dead, imagines how Curtis must have felt watching it happen in real time. And Shiro and Curtis were both grown men. Lance is too young to have to carry this around with him. It’s not fair. It’s not right. He can’t even buy himself a beer and he had to watch her--

 

Shiro closes his eyes and shakes his head to clear it. Definitely not the time to fall down _that_ hole again.

 

Curtis left him holding their prize--probably to keep himself from eating all of it before they even got it home. Shiro pokes through the fun size chocolate bars and rolls of Smarties and finds a little pouch of black jellybeans.

 

He hates black licorice. So does Curtis. But Adam loved it, and he gently roasted both of them over that in the video he left them.

 

Shiro tucks the jellybeans into his pocket. Maybe he’ll ask Curtis if he wants to go leave them at the wall together.

 

Earlier, Lance told Shiro he wants to go to Altea. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with the rest of his life yet but he feels like that’s where he’s supposed to be, at least for a while. Possibly a long while. There’s a lot of work to do there, and he figures he should help.

 

Shiro watches Curtis talk to him for a while. At some point Lance nods enthusiastically and says something Shiro thinks might be along the lines of _yeah, I appreciate that, thanks._ Then Curtis sweeps him into a big brotherly hug for a moment, lets him go, and they go their separate ways again.

 

Curtis’ way is back to Shiro’s side, and Shiro wraps an arm around his waist. “Everything okay?”

 

“Relatively speaking? Yeah.” Curtis blows out a breath and flashes Shiro an incredulous glance. “You weren’t kidding. He’s a lot more okay than I was when--” He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to finish that sentence, and Shiro gives him a little squeeze to let him know he doesn’t have to.

 

* * *

 

They never really discuss whose room they’re going to when they’ve had enough of the outside world but aren’t quite ready to part ways for the night--it just sort of happens one way or the other. Tonight it goes without saying that they’re going to Curtis’ room. It’s on the first floor. Shiro’s is on the third and they’re both wiped out.

 

Curtis lets them both in, and Shiro flips his sheet onto the back of the couch and flops down while Curtis goes to change into his comfy clothes. Shiro needs to do that too--he keeps a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants here for that exact reason--but he can wait.

 

While Curtis is in the bedroom trading his jeans and sweater for shorts and a T-shirt, Shiro notices something unusual. Half of Curtis’ kitchenette counter, usually occupied by small appliances he technically isn’t supposed to have in the dorm, is covered with stuff.

 

Candles are another thing they’re not supposed to have in the dorm but there’s a weird loophole on that one--they can have candles, they just can’t _burn_ them. And at least thus far, the candles on the counter haven’t been lit. There are lots of them, in all different colors--little votives, mostly, and when Shiro hauls himself off the couch to take a closer look he sees that some of them are the fake ones that run on batteries. There are flowers, some real in vases and cups of water, some artificial. There are a few carefully wrapped pastries and candy bars and packaged snacks and assorted trinkets.

 

There are photos, and that’s what makes it click--Shiro spots the orange candle and the little bundle of sage and sweetgrass in front of it and thinks he’s figured out what he’s looking at, but the picture of Adam cements it. There are no sugar skulls. There’s no explicitly religious imagery among the candles and flowers and pictures. But there’s no question about it.

 

Adam wasn’t particularly religious, and neither is Curtis. But much like Adam did, Curtis still finds comfort in some of the traditions he grew up with, familiar bits of ritual passed down from his parents and grandparents and so on. And after the last few years, after everything that’s happened, after everyone he’s lost... of course Curtis needs some of that comfort.

 

Shiro doesn’t know who all of the people in the pictures are. Curtis still doesn’t want to talk about some of them, but he’s said enough about a few that Shiro can make some educated guesses. There’s a picture of a kid who barely looks old enough to drive, with the same dark skin and blue eyes as Curtis, wearing an Army uniform. It’s hard to read the name badge in the photo but it looks like it probably says _Alvarez._

 

One of Curtis’ little brothers. David. The one who joined the National Guard right out of high school and never could have imagined what was going to happen just a few weeks after he graduated from basic.

 

Shiro can guess who maybe a couple of others are, but he’s not going to ask unless Curtis opens that door. As gentle and patient as Curtis has been with him when it comes to things he doesn’t want to talk about, the least he can do is return the favor.

 

“‘Kay, your turn--oh.” Curtis pads into the main room in shorts and a T-shirt and bare feet and wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist from behind. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to light the real ones.”

 

“I’m sure not going to write you up,” Shiro says.

 

They stand there in silence for a while, Shiro leaning his head back against Curtis’ shoulder and Curtis resting his chin on Shiro’s.

 

“You don’t do sugar skulls?” Shiro finally asks, and Curtis shrugs.

 

“I wanted to but I couldn’t find any. Or the stuff to make them. Didn’t really have time anyway.” Curtis pats Shiro’s stomach. “Speaking of--I need to go to the store in the morning, gotta find one more pink candle.”

 

“Is that what you and Lance were talking about?”

 

“Yeah. I figured he’d be okay with it, I just... felt like I should ask him before I put one up.”

 

Shiro swallows hard and shuts his eyes. “It’s not enough,” he says before he can stop himself. “It’s not enough for her. Or Adam. Or your brother. Or--”

 

“I know.” Curtis holds him tighter. “But all we can do is remember them, and be grateful we had them in our lives.”

 

There’s a lot Shiro wants to say to that. “You want me to see if I can get a juniberry from Colleen?” he asks instead, and Curtis nods.

 

“That’d be great.” He picks his head up and presses a little kiss to Shiro’s temple. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just thinking... is it okay if I put something on there?” Shiro reaches into his pocket and comes out with the little packet of black jellybeans. “These were in the pumpkin and... I don’t know. I just thought...”

 

Curtis peers down over his shoulder, sees what he has, and laughs. “Oh, gross. Yeah. Definitely give him those.” He lets go of Shiro with a little pat on his hip.

 

Shiro leans the little packet of jellybeans up against the orange candle, and he can almost see Adam rolling his eyes at the noises and faces he and Curtis make at them. “So... what do you do with the food after...?”

 

“We can eat it,” Curtis says. “Short version of the story is, the spirits eat the essence of it and we can have what’s left. Mom says that means there’s no calories in it but... yeah.” Shiro looks at the jellybeans, and back at Curtis, and he must be making a face because Curtis adds, “and we can leave _those_ at the wall.”

 

Shiro imagines the look Adam would be giving them both right now and laughs. He can almost feel Adam’s eyes on his back, almost see the smartass little smirk he’d get on his face when Shiro was about to do something ill-advised but relatively harmless, something they both knew he was going to regret.

 

Something like... oh, hell.

 

He takes that packet of jellybeans back and tears off a corner.

 

“I gotta do it,” he sighs, and he shakes a single black jellybean into his hand.

 

“Oh God,” Curtis groans, but he holds out his hand anyway. “We’re doing this because we love you,” he says to Adam’s picture as Shiro gives him one too. “I hope you know that.”

 

“Okay.” Shiro sets the rest of the pack back against that orange candle. “One... two...” Curtis looks like he’s bracing for a spoonful of really disgusting medicine, and Shiro has to pause the count for a second to bust out laughing. “Three.”

 

They pop their jellybeans into their mouths and chew.

 

At first, it’s not bad. It’s not _good,_ but it’s not horrible.

 

And then--

 

And then it _is_ horrible. God, Shiro always forgets the worst thing about black licorice.

 

It _lies._

 

It’s tolerable when you first bite down on it. It pats the tastebuds on their little heads and tells them not to worry, it won’t hurt them. And then as soon as they drop their guard, it beats them half to death with a giant black baseball bat studded with anise seeds.

 

Curtis pulls a face and shakes his head as the effect sets in on him too. _“Unh-unh!”_ He goes for the trash can and spits his half-chewed jellybean into it, then Shiro grabs the can from him and deposits his own in there, both of them spluttering in equal parts laughter and disgust.

 

 _“God!”_ Shiro reaches for the fridge door and yanks it open--Curtis always keeps something to drink in here, right? Something sweet? Something that will scrub the taste of black candy death off his tongue? He finds a bottle of soda, cranks the cap off, and takes a big swig and passes it to Curtis.

 

Despite the fact that he has been dead, that he has personally taken a trip to at least one version of the afterlife and come back to tell the tale, Shiro isn’t sure what he believes happens to the souls of dead people who don’t have a psychic bond with a sentient robot lion. But right now, while he and Curtis are trying desperately to get the taste of black licorice out of their mouths, it’s easy to imagine Adam sitting right there behind them--invisible, intangible, but still _there_ \--and laughing his ass off at them.

 

Right now, it’s easy to remember him the way he was.

 

It still doesn’t seem like enough. But it’s all they can do.


End file.
